“The lesson it conveys to me, my Lord,” said the monk, drily, “is that a man is but a fool to leave the stability of good stout sandals with which he is accustomed, to venture his body on a horse that pays little heed to his wishes.” “This is our last detour,” replied the Elector; “there are now many miles of winding but level road before us, and you have thus a chance to retrieve your reputation as a horseman in the eyes of our troop.” “In truth, my Lord, I never boasted of it,” returned the monk, “but I am right glad to learn that the way will be less mountainous. To what district have we penetrated?” “Above us, but unseen from this bank of the river, is the castle of the Widow Starkenburg. Her days of widowhood, however, are nearly passed, for I intend to marry her to one of my victorious knights, who will hold the castle for me.” “The Countess of Starkenburg,” said the monk, “must surely now be at an age when the thoughts turn toward Heaven rather than toward matrimony.” “I have yet to meet the woman,” replied the Archbishop, gazing upward, “who pleads old age as an excuse for turning away from a suitable lover. It is thy misfortune, Gottlieb, that in choosing a woollen cowl rather than an iron head-piece, thou should’st thus have lost a chance of advancement. The castle, I am told, has well-filled wine vaults, and old age in wine is doubtless more to thy taste than the same quality in woman. ‘Tis a pity thou art not a knight, Gottlieb.” “The fault is not beyond the power of our Holy Father to remedy by special dispensation,” replied the monk, with a chuckle. The Elector laughed silently, and looked down on his comrade in kindly fashion, shaking his head. “The wines of Castle Starkenburg are not for thy appreciative palate, ghostly father. I have already selected a mate for the widow.” “And what if thy selection jumps not with her approval. They tell me the countess has a will of her own.” “It matters little to me, and I give her the choice merely because I am loth to war with a woman. The castle commands the river and holds the district. The widow may give it up peaceably at the altar, or forcibly at the point of the sword, whichever method most commends itself to her ladyship. The castle must be in the command of one whom I can trust.”